


Just Watching the Dark

by angelheadedhipster, nitpickyabouttrains



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kissing, MediAvengers, Pepperony - Freeform, Post-IM3, Surveillance, arc reactor feels, flash bombs, hauntedsexy, hey look het, raccoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheadedhipster/pseuds/angelheadedhipster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitpickyabouttrains/pseuds/nitpickyabouttrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“She has been going for walks,” Tony had told him, a thread of confusion in his voice, like he just could not understand, “at night. She refused to take Stark security with her. I’m worried.”</p><p>Clint had rolled his eyes. “Worried about Pepper? If anyone can take care of themselves, she can.”</p><p> </p><p>Written for the 2013 Mediavengers mini-bang, and featuring artwork soon as the internet comes back for our lovely artist!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Watching the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the awesome [Mediavengers Big Bang](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/MediAvengersMiniBang2013). We used the [ Pepper Potts Vanity Fair ](http://mediavengers.com/post/53589788692/vanity-fair-december-2011-featuring-pepper)cover as a jumping off point, ish.
> 
> Thanks to [hi_irashay](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_irashay) for a really helpful beta, and to [nottonyharrison](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nottonyharrison/pseuds/nottonyharrison) for running this thing, it's been super fun.
> 
> Art coming soon - our poor artist had unexpected internet difficulties :(

Clint Barton was bored. He could not remember the last time he had been this bored on a mission. Not that this was a mission, not exactly. It wasn’t sanctioned by SHIELD. But he had been sent out with a task to accomplish.

A boring task.

Above him, stars twinkled, barely visible points of light in the dark night’s sky. It was hard to see the stars in the city, they did not have the chance to shine. There were too many lights from buildings, from streetlights and from cars, getting in the way. Even here, on the edge, far away from the center, from most other people, they were not very bright. Clint wondered why that was.

Maybe it was the smog. New York, as a city, was full of it. Even through it, though, he could see the pale sliver of the crescent moon. Too thin and weak to provide any real light.

The combination, of a dark moon and fading stars, made the night black. A deep and dark black that was seemingly never-ending. The sort of black which suggested there might never be a sun again. Visibility was low, but that did not matter much. This mission did not give him a chance to shoot anything, anyway. His bow was fastened on his back, unused for hours, and his arrows were away. His talents were wasted here, which was no fun; he was nothing more than a glorified bodyguard. There for protection, to watch out, to keep an eye open. No firing at all.

No running, either. The wind picked up, blowing fiercely past him, and Clint longed to jump into it. He wanted to leap from roof to roof, not force himself to take small strides. He wanted to run with the breeze, use it to pick up speed, let it aid him in his work.

He wanted to fly.

Clint took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on his goal, not on what he wanted. The air filled his lungs slowly, as he controlled the flow of the world into his diaphragm. The wind tasted salty tonight, almost like tears. It tasted like the sea. Breathing like this, it was something he had learned as an archer, how to steady himself, how to refocus and turn back to the one thing that mattered, the target.

In this case, the target was Pepper Potts, walking on the street below him. Walking was not the right word, because it make Clint think of something calm and average. What Pepper was doing had much more purpose.

 <blockquote>“She has been going for walks,” Tony had told him, a thread of confusion in his voice, like he just could not understand, “at night. She refused to take Stark security with her. I’m worried.”

Clint had rolled his eyes. “Worried about Pepper? If anyone can take care of themselves, she can.”

“I want you to tail her, make sure she is safe,” Tony had said, his brown eyes flashing passionately. Clint had seen that look in his eyes before; it meant he had something on his mind, it meant there was no stopping him. Tony said, “Just watch her and make sure there is no trouble. You seem like just the Bird for the job.” A smile hid on the corner of his mouth at his joke.

“No,” Clint said shortly.

“Come on,” Tony had needled, “Why not? It’s right there in your name, HawkEYE, just keep an eye out for her. I would do it myself, but,” he reached up and pounded the center of his chest, once, with his fist, right where the arc reactor used to glow, where he was nothing but flesh and blood now. “I don’t exactly have the power anymore.”

Clint shook his head once, making it as final as he could. “No way. Pepper would kill me if she knew. I am not doing it.”

Tony leaned forward, his voice low, and an undeniable smirk played on the corner of his mouth. “Clint. Buddy. Do I need to remind you that you owe me? So unless you want everyone to know what really happened in Moscow, with the peanut butter, the alpaca, and Thor, you are going to do this favor for me.”

“You wouldn’t,” Clint said, a blush creeping up his neck at the memory.

“Wouldn’t I?” Tony raised a single perfectly shaped eyebrow. The answer was right there in the question. Tony would. Of course he would.

Clint knew right then that Tony had him. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Just don’t let her catch you,” Tony said, sitting back, looking pleased, a smirk on the corner of his mouth. “You’ll be fine.”  </blockquote>

So far, Pepper had done nothing but walk, aimlessly as far as Clint could tell. She did not go into any buildings. She did not stop to talk to anyone. She did not even take a single phone call, something he would have thought impossible for the CEO of a Fortune 500 company.

This meant that Clint had also done nothing but walk, shadowing her a few stories above, perched on the roofs of the buildings she walked past. He crept along, back far enough that she would not be able to just look up and see him, keeping to the shadows. And he was bored. He scanned the alleys, kept his eyes on the streets, looked out for suspicious people, but there was nothing to see.

Clint was getting ready to make the jump to the next building, just a foot and a half, not a challenge at all, when something caught his eye. It was a twitch, a small movement. Anybody else would not have noticed. Clint Barton was not just anybody.

He refocused on the shadows, on the way they shifted and changed. There was something there, less than half a block behind Pepper, and it was getting restless.

Reaching behind himself, he pulled out his bow from its sheath on his back, in one fluid motion, snapping it out and ready for use. Then he reached back again and grabbed an arrow. This was the delicate part. So many of his arrows did different things, he had to have the right one. In this case he did not need to hurt or kill, not yet. He just needed to see what was there, surprise it. So he took a flash-bomb, which would spark and make a sudden bright light, temporarily blinding whoever was there.

The bow was an extension of his arm, it was part of him, doing what he wanted. And extending it out and into place took a fraction of a second, as natural to him as breathing. He notched the arrow into place, let out a slow breath, and released.

The arrow flew straight and true, as he knew it would, and hit its mark without trouble. The center of the moving shadow. Light burst from the point, illuminating the whole street.

_BAM_

A sound of an explosion jolted Clint. He was thrown back, not braced for the force of something blowing up. And the light from the arrow did not just brighten the alley, it set it on fire. There was a clattering sound, something falling, something shattering. Shit, he thought, pushing himself up, and to the edge of the building.

It only took him a second, scanning the street below, to spot Pepper Potts. She was on the ground, on her back, pushed up and supporting herself on her elbows as she surveyed the damage around her. Without a thought, Clint jumped down, to make sure she was alright.

+++

Pepper pushed herself onto her feet, trying to wipe gravel off her hands without completely ruining her skirt. One more pair of designer heels with explosive residue scuffing the leather…

She knew she should probably feel afraid, but mostly she felt irritated. There was no chaos and shouting, none of the adrenaline she had gotten all too used to. Just a quiet, dark alley, and what appeared to be a quietly smoldering raccoon next to her. For Pepper Potts, this didn’t even count as that strange a night.

“Hey, Pepper,” said a voice, and suddenly Clint Barton was in front of her, black and silent. “Are… are you okay?”

“Clint? What on earth are you doing here? Where did you even come from?” He was looking her over now, what she recognized as a ‘checking for injuries’ stare. “I’m fine, Clint. I’m just confused. Why was there an explosion? Why are you here?”

“I… uh,” Clint said. His hand was on the back of his neck now, and he was looking at the ground. “I wanted to congratulate you? On your new magazine cover?” His eyes were on her face now, looking incredibly earnest and sheepish. It was not a look that suited him.

“Oh my god,” said Pepper.

“I know!” said Clint, his eyes widening in the most forced way Pepper had ever seen. “ _Vanity Fair_ , that’s a big deal! Even I’ve heard of _Vanity Fair_. You looked great, of course.”

Clint Barton had many talents, but faking enthusiasm was not one of them.

Pepper could feel her hands starting to ball into fists, the way they did when she got very frustrated. She looked around, trying to avoid Clint’s eyes, assessing what had happened. That was a very dead raccoon. Wait, was that an _arrow_ sticking out of it?

The pieces snapped together in her mind, and she whirled on Clint, who looked terrified.

“Clint Barton,” she said, looking him straight in the face. In heels, she was almost a foot taller. “Did you shoot an exploding arrow at this raccoon?”

“Uh,” said Clint.

“I am going to _kill_ Tony,” Pepper responded, and now her hands were running through her hair, messing up her blow out, and that was one more thing to blame on him. “Come on, get in the car.”

“What? Wait, me? Where-OW!”

Pepper had reached down and grabbed Clint by the ear, like she did with her nephews when they weren’t listening and she had to show them who was boss. She knew it was an undignified thing to do to a grown man, let alone an Avenger and one of the world’s best assassins, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t remember the last time she was so mad at Tony, and that was really saying something. Tony-frustration was a very particular feeling, and sometimes she thought it brought out the worst in her.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming, wherever it is we’re going, geez, lay off,” Clint was still talking as Pepper pulled out her phone to call the car, though she let go of his ear once she dialed.

“We’re going home,” Pepper said. Clint edged away from her, but he knew he was caught.

+++

Clint was cowering behind her in the elevator down to Tony’s workshop. He looked so abashed that Pepper felt herself warming to him. It wasn’t really his fault. Probably. Tony had put him up to it. Probably.

She turned to say something to him, something apologetic, but at that moment the doors opened, and she whirled around, all her irritation coursing back through her as she saw Tony’s back, wearing a black tank top and some sort of heat-resistant gloves, hammering intently at something.

“Tony Stark!” she called, stalking out of the elevator, her heels sounding like bullets on the stone floor of the workshop. Good.

She saw his shoulders tense, so she knew he heard her. Clint was behind her, she was fairly certain, moving with all the stealth and subtlety of a master assassin trying to avoid detection because he was really embarrassed.

Tony slowly turned around, stripping his gloves off. “Hey, honey,” he said, slowly. And then, “Oh, Clint, hey. Didn’t see you there.”

Pepper stood a few feet away from him, folded her arms, and gave the look that had once convinced James Cramer to offer an unprecedented on-air retraction. On Tony Stark it caused a barely perceptible wince.

“Tony.” Pepper’s voice was clipped. “Please tell me why you have Hawkeye stalking me through New York City.”

Behind her she heard a slight shifting noise, as Tony’s eyes slid over to Clint.

“I said absolutely nothing,” Clint said.

“This is true,” said Pepper. “He said nothing, which is why I didn’t know he was there. Because he was _following me around in secret._ ”

“Then-” said Tony.

“In secret, until he exploded a raccoon in front of me.”

Pepper watched Tony’s reactions flow across his face, so fast that someone who didn’t know him that well would have trouble following. His mouth quirked in amusement, and he looked like he had several jokes warring in his mind before his eyes turned, accusing but mocking, but also ever so slightly terrified, to Clint.

“Yeah, buddy? I didn’t think creative rodent elimination was part of the plan. Is this some sort of eternal vendetta, the hawks versus the raccoons, and you couldn’t help yourself? They always did look shifty. Those eye markings.” Tony gestured vaguely toward his face with a hand before giving up.

“I didn’t know it was a raccoon,” Clint mumbled from behind her.

“Why were you exploding _anything_?” said Pepper, half-turning so she was almost facing him.

“I was… flash bomb…” Clint trailed off. “I thought it was an attacker.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, and looked pointedly at Tony.

Tony sighed, and ran a hand over his eyes. “All right, Clint, you can go. Sorry to drag you into this.”

“ _She_ dragged me in,” said Clint. “By my _ear_.”

“Wait, that’s hilarious,” said Tony. “Did you really, Pep? I take it back, I’m not sorry.”

Pepper glared, and tapped a finger against her arm.

“Yeah, you should go, man,” said Tony, avoiding her eyes.

“Go what? Go, where?” said Clint.

Tony shrugged. “Bruce is next door, you can go shoot at him and see if he explodes, too.”

Clint looked like he was about to complain some more, and then a different expression crossed his face, and he grinned. Something told Pepper Bruce wasn’t going to like that grin, but she didn’t really care at this point.

“Sorry, Pepper,” he said, as he turned and walked back into the elevator. “I’ll pay for the shoes.”

Now that it was just the two of them, Pepper uncrossed her arms and walked forward, softly. Tony was leaning against the worktop behind him, hands on the metal at his sides. As she got closer he leaned back, almost unconsciously.

“Did I tell you how great you looked on _Vanity Fair_?” said Tony. “Absolutely stunning. As always, though, really, and I think-”

“How’d you get him to do it?” Pepper asked. “Did you pay him, or was he doing it as a favor?”

“Blackmail, actually,” Tony said, and his mouth quirked a bit.

“Oh, you know, that maybe makes me feel better,” said Pepper. “About Clint, at least.” She raised an eyebrow.

“The alpaca thing,” Tony said in response. “Which he definitely doesn’t know you know, so keep that one to yourself, yeah? I know it works now, I might use it again.”

Pepper laughed, and felt her anger seeping out of her, as it always did when it was just the two of them. He still wasn’t meeting her gaze, those big liquid eyes skittering to the corners of the room, a smirk teetering on his lips, almost falling off.

“Tony,” said Pepper. “Why?”

He sighed again, and looked at her shoes. She had stopped moving, and was close enough to touch him, if she wanted to.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not super-boyfriend anymore,” he said. “Literally - 100% all human flesh now, like a reverse Frankenstein. From machine to man. I can’t be your knight in shining iron anymore, and if something happened to you,” he let out a rough sigh, “I am basically useless.”

Pepper reached out, wrapping her arms around him, their hips touching but leaning back, their shoulders apart. She ran her hand over the spot where the arc reactor had been, the muscle now tender and strange. He shifted under her, wanting to be closer to her but pulling away. She knew he was still unused to the feeling of her hand on that part of his skin.

“I am capable of taking care of myself, Tony,” she said. “I survived a long time without your arc reactor.”

“If something happened to you, I couldn’t- I just couldn’t-”

She leaned in and kissed him then, small and gentle, close-mouthed against his stuttering lips.

“You’ve survived worse,” she said.

He looked up, and fixed her with a look, one of those rare moments when everything he usually kept in front of his eyes disappeared, and what looked out was startling in its intensity.

“I really haven’t,” he said.

His arms had settled on her waist now, strong and heavy, calluses she could feel through the thin material of her shirt. She felt warmth seeping in, in contrast with the cold air of the workshop. He wasn’t as warm now, without the reactor. It was a body’s heat now, muscles and blood, rather than sparks and buzz and crackling energy.

“No more surveillance,” she said. “No Hawkeye, nobody following me.”

“Okay,” he said, and his hand was running under her shirt, his eyes on her neck.

“Nothing, Tony, I mean it. I can take care of myself, and I need you to believe that. To trust me.”

“I don’t get to kiss you until I say it, do I?” Tony said, a quirk in his lips, but she could see the fear in his eyes, still.

“I need you to say it, yes,” she said, pulling back a bit. She ran her hand along his jaw, feeling the soft hairs of his goatee under her finger. “I was yours before you had a thing in your chest, and I’m still yours after its out. And you’re still mine.”

“Ok, this is getting a little embarrassing, Pep,” Tony said, but his eyes were glittering. “We’re not on _Dawson’s Creek_ here or anything.”

“ _Dawson’s Creek_ hasn’t been on in ten years,” said Pepper, and she pulled his jaw forward slightly and kissed him, fierce and slow. Her arms moved around his neck, dragging him towards her, and his fingers were digging into her waist, pulling them together, lifting her out of her heels.


End file.
